She lived in the Bellaire Apartments, number 226. I climbed a flight of exterior steps, balled my hand into a fist and rapped on her door. The sound of a dog yipped on the other side and a TV was suddenly muted. Footsteps made their way to the door and then a shadow appeared over a peephole. I did a little wave and smiled big so she wouldn’t be inclined to ignore me. A chain made a clinging sound and the door opened.
“Emily, what in the world brings you here?” Lisa asked, her dog bouncing around my ankles. She was kind enough to open the door wide and wave me inside. “Come in,” she added. And I did. She closed the door behind me and offered me a place on a brown microfiber sectional, while simultaneously shutting the dog in her bathroom. “Would you like something to drink?” she offered. “I have tea, water, soda...”
“No thank you. I won’t be long. I just need to ask you a few questions and then I’ll be on my way.” I looked her over. No sneezing, no coughing. She didn’t look pale. No red face like she was running a temperature. She looked as attractive as ever. She was dressed in a low-cut blouse accentuating her large breast. Her silky brunette hair was in a low ponytail. She looked perfectly fine to me. Better than I did.
She looked me over with her big round dark eyes. “Talk to me ... about what?”
“I’m going to be honest with you about something and hope you’ll do the same with me.” I paused and she hesitantly nodded. “I recently overheard you and another girl in a nail salon.” After recapping the conversation, she took on an embarrassed look.
“Greg is only a friend. I hope you’re not reading more into that conversation.”
“I heard you were separated. And you were whining about missing my husband,” I narrowed my eyes at her. “Why wouldn’t I wonder what was going on?”
“Yes, I understand. If I’d overheard it, I’d probably have jumped to the same conclusion.” She briefly paused. “First off, my husband and I are in counseling and it’s going extremely well. Secondly, there was never anything going on between myself and your husband. And finally, I recall the conversation clearly in my head and, had I known you were within hearing distance, I certainly wouldn’t have said those things because it wasn’t meant to hurt you. You see, I was there with Tracy Williams and I remember my tongue flapping quite a bit. But it was only to make her jealous.”
“Tracy Williams from the DA’s office?” I interrupted.
“Yes, I’ve known Tracy for a lot of years.”
Numerous things were going through my head right now. Tracy Williams, according to Greg’s secretary, was someone who had put some moves on Greg. If Lisa wasn’t sleeping with my husband, had Tracy been successful in wearing Greg down? Were they carrying on behind closed doors without letting anyone in on their dirty little secret?
“Is Tracy having an affair with my husband?” I inquired.
“No ... she wishes though. You see, when Greg worked at Blevins & Howard, he never even knew I existed. At least not until one day when I was in the breakroom waiting for a bowl of soup to heat in the microwave. I was crying when he came in for a cup of coffee, and he noticed. When he asked what was wrong, I fell apart.”
She was tearing up right now and pain was all over her face.
“What happened?” I pried.
“My mother’s Alzheimer’s had progressed to the point she no longer recognized me. I just couldn’t take it. The doctor had just told me her condition would only worsen and it was breaking my heart. Greg became a sympathetic ear.”
Suddenly I understood. Greg’s father had developed Alzheimer’s. It almost killed Greg to see his father’s mind wasting away, one memory at a time, until he no longer recognized his own son. Much like Ava and Greg, Greg worshiped the ground his father walked on. Once Alfred was placed into a convalescent care facility, Greg, without fail, continued visiting his father twice weekly, right up until the day his father passed on. It made sense that he would have sympathized with Lisa’s distress over her mother and a bond would have been formed.
She swallowed hard. “We had a few lunches together in the breakroom where I cried on his shoulder and he cried on mine.” She looked at me and bit at her bottom lip. “This is going to sound so petty. While Tracy is my friend, at the same time, she has always looked down her nose at me, always letting me know that she, as an attorney, was so much better than me, being only a secretary. It’s not every time we’re together. But on the rare occasion she does, or says something braggy or condescending, it just flies all over me. That was one of those days.”
“Why that day?” I asked, urging her to continue.
She rolled her head in a big circle and groaned. “Okay ... well, she’d just finished a trial and had the ability to take off work early. My job’s not like that. I’m required to clear it ahead of time with Mr. Blevins. Out of the blue, she scheduled this mani-pedi appointment without even consulting with me. She thinks my job is unimportant and I can just leave work whenever I want to. I had to promise Mr. Blevins to work late the next day before I could take off. So, you see, I was already upset with her before we even arrived at the nail salon.” She pushed out a long breath of air. “I knew she had a thing for Greg, and I used it. I was bragging about those lunches. We never went out to lunch anywhere and we only had lunch a few times together in the breakroom. I haven’t told her that Wayne and I are reconciling. Instead, I’ve led her to believe that Greg and I are in a relationship. I had toned it down when you overheard us. Before that, I was acting like we were seeing each other all the time. But I was feeling so guilty about my ruse that I’d tried to make it sound as if Greg and I were barely seeing each other since he left the firm. When she perceived our relationship as being on the downhill slide, I saw her hungry eyes light up and I worked in that we were still trying to find the time for each other.” She groaned again. “I’m so sorry. It was only meant as a dig to her because it was the one thing that got to her. Because she had a thing for Greg, I made her believe Greg was paying attention to me.”
“Just to be clear, Tracy, even though she thought you and Greg had something going on, was still interested in pursuing Greg.” Some friend.
“Yes. She didn’t think I had lasting power ... after all, from her viewpoint a lowly secretary was beneath Greg’s status as an attorney.” I wondered how low a part-time bank teller fell on Tracy’s list. “When I started backing off on the seriousness of our relationship, she saw the opportunity door opening for her. She used every morsel she could get her hands on to gain information she thought would convince Greg that he should dump me and leave you, and then fall into her arms.”
“Do you think she accomplished her goal?” I asked.
“To fall into Greg’s arms?” She laughed loudly. “No way. Greg shut her down from the get-go. There’s no way he slept with her. Besides, if they would’ve, she couldn’t have kept from bragging.”
Made sense.
“Do you think Greg was having an affair with anyone?”
She laughed again, this time some spit coming out of her mouth. “No. Everyone knows Greg is true to you. He’s untouchable.”
Except he wasn’t.
◆◆◆
My suspects had been eliminated. Neither Chris (who I thought was Taylor), nor Lisa ended up being involved with my husband. Even Tracy Williams, who sounded all too eager, had apparently been unable to sway Greg. It seemed everyone’s opinion was the same as mine ... Greg would never cheat on me. So, who got to him? Who possessed enough charm to lure my husband in, yet would stoop low enough to be caught dead in that disgusting motel? Well, they weren’t caught dead ... only my husband was.
When I thought of my beloved Greg wasting away in that hotel, my heart broke into a million pieces. I needed to give up this detective charade and report his body before it was discovered. Maybe, just maybe, by doing so, I could work out a lighter sentence and at least be out of jail by the time Ava walked down the wedding aisle.
Parked outside Lisa’s apartment and about to call the police, my
finger was on the 9 when I received a call. It startled me to the point I almost dropped my phone. “Hello,” I answered to my mother.
“Emily, I’ve just arrived home from picking Ava up from school. She said something strange on the way home. I think we need to discuss it.”
“What did she say?”
“No, I want you to talk to her. It needs to be you.”
“Okay, then. I’ll be on my way.” The drive back to my mother’s was filled with curiosity, wondering what my daughter could have said that evoked this strange behavior from my mother.
When I came in the door, I was greeted only by mother and Piper. “Ava’s upstairs doing her homework,” she told me, letting me know we could speak freely without Ava overhearing.
My mom headed for her couch and I followed her to the love seat. “So, what did she say?” I asked, sinking down into the soft cushions.
She frowned. “She was talking about Sarah and Sarah’s parents. Sarah mentioned her parents having a humdinger of a fight a week or so ago. She claimed her dad stormed out of the house ... according to her dad. To hear it from her mother, she told Sarah she threw him out.”
“Okay...” I pinched my brows. “What does this have to do with me and Greg?”
“Sarah said her mother found out Paul has a girlfriend and she kicked him out. That’s according to Molly. Paul told his daughter he wanted to leave to go be with his girlfriend.”
“Okay,” I repeated. “I still don’t get the connection.”
“Sarah told Ava she had better never, ever utter a word about Greg’s girlfriend, or you two, meaning you and Greg, might end up splitting apart like Sarah’s parents did.”
My eyes flew wide. “What?! Ava knows Greg has a girlfriend!”
Was this the ammunition Ava used to get her room remodeled?
“She let it slip, Emily. Then she begged me not to say anything.” My mother began crying. “I’ve betrayed my granddaughter by telling you ... but you needed to know ... considering.” She dabbed a tissue at the corners of her wet eyes. “But I didn’t know what to do after that. I thought ... I don’t know ... I just called you.”
I blew out a breath of air. Damn Greg for putting us in this situation. And damn him for getting himself killed. I couldn’t hold back any longer and before I knew it, my mother and I both let loose with blubbering tears, ending in snot-filled noses.
“Mama, Gigi, what’s happening? Why are you crying?” Ava asked suddenly entering the room.
“Oh honey,” I said looking up at her worried face and beckoning her to come to me. As soon as she neared, I grabbed hold of her and folded my daughter into my arms. “I love you so much.”
“Why are you and Gigi crying?” she asked unable to discount our obvious distress. She pulled back and peered into my face, then swiveled her head to her grandmother. “Did you tell on me, Gigi?”
My mother sobbed in desperate despair. “Honey, I had to. I’m so very, very sorry. Your mother needed to know because...” She looked at me with pleading eyes.
It was time to come clean with my daughter. Her father was dead, and she needed to know. The last two days should have been spent planning Greg’s funeral, rather than leaving him alone in that seedy motel. I needed to make everything right, not only for my deceased spouse, but for my baby girl. Taking in a deep breath for courage, I looked deep into Ava’s tentative blue eyes. “Ava, honey, something really bad happened to Daddy. We need to find out who hurt him. It might have been a woman ... or the woman might lead us to whoever hurt Daddy. Please, honey, if you know anything, you have to tell Mommy.”
“Hurt? How hurt?”
“Really hurt,” I softened, unable to blurt it out at once.
“You mean dead. Don’t you! Is Daddy dead!!??” She looked into my watery eyes and hers immediately filled with overflowing tears. “Nooooooo. You’re lying. Daddy is not dead. This isn’t happening. Liar!!!”
Ava fell immediately into denial as a defense mechanism. She abruptly pushed out of my arms and bounded up the stairs with me right behind her. Crossing her room, she flopped on the bed and began to wail. It broke my heart apart to see my daughter in the worst pain imaginable. Gathering her in my arms, I sobbed right along with my little girl in an equal amount of agony. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.”
Pulling her close, I held her tight against me and let our tears blend. Our hearts poured into each other’s souls as we absorbed the gravity of Greg’s death. Flooding tears continued to the point we could hardly gasp a breath. I hadn’t taken the time to properly grieve, and she was experiencing raw emotions over the loss of her father. We cried ourselves out while she clung to me, her arms wrapped tightly around my neck. “We’ll get through this,” I softly assured her. “Just know that Daddy loved you so much. He’s watching you from Heaven and he’s sending you kisses right now.”
“I don’t want his kisses,” she said defiantly through heart-wrenching sobs. “Not if he died because of his girlfriend. Is that who hurt him?”
“That’s what Mommy is trying to figure out. Can you tell me what happened? Please, honey, I need to know.”
We were at my mom’s house, but Ava was in her bedroom there. She pushed herself up and sat cross-legged on a pink chenille bedspread and picked distractedly at one of the protruding piles. “It was the day we were at the Science Museum. The bus had loaded, and we were waiting on a headcount. Sarah is the one who spotted Daddy. When I looked where she was pointing, I saw Daddy walking with some girl, and he had his arm around her shoulders.” She sucked in a snot bubble and a tear dribbled from her cheek. “They were all snugged up next to each other.”
“Did you know her?” I asked.
“No, they were walking away from me and I couldn’t see her face.” She paused “She looked familiar though and I’ve thought of nothing but her ever since Sarah’s mom and dad split apart. I’ve tried to remember where I’ve seen her before.”
“Honey, I remember when you came home you were devastated, and Daddy came up to your room and talked to you. What did he say to you?”
“He just blew it off. He said she was a friend ... not a girlfriend. He didn’t want me to mention it to you because he said you’d get mad and accuse him of something that he wasn’t guilty of.” She hiccupped and wiped her nose on her jeans. I reached for a box of tissues and we each blew our noses. “He told me there was nothing to worry about and I believed him. I truly did. But after Sarah told me about her parents separating, she convinced me the same thing would happen to you and Daddy.”
“Well, honey, thank you for telling me. You did the right thing.” I paused. “Please don’t be upset with Gigi. She knew what was going on with Daddy being...” Ava gasped, and I couldn’t complete my sentence. “Anyway, honey, we thought you might be able to help us find out who hurt Daddy.”
“I’m not mad at Gigi. I’m mad at Daddy. He lied to me and he left us. I’ll never see my daddy again because he’s gone.”
Once again, she became a gushing fountain of tears, cradled back in my arms. Hopefully, in time, Ava would forgive her father and have loving memories to remember him by. Until then, she was going through the anger stage of accepting one’s death ... just like I was. As the reality of the situation slammed home, we were each faced with unbearable pain and loss. Frustration and helplessness were turning into anger and what better person to blame than the one who left you alone?
As Ava released her emotions, I felt myself teetering on the edge of a breakdown, fearing what came next for me when Greg’s murder was reported to the authorities. Would I be whisked away to jail as the suspected murderer, or only for failure to report finding the body? In my online research, failure to report a murder to the proper authorities was considered a felony if the actor intended to conceal the abuse or neglect. I had wiped up two separate rooms and taken away the evidence, which remained in a trash bag in the back of my car. At this point, was it better to dispose of the contents, or turn them over to the police and thro
w myself on the mercy of the court? Had this single event caused Ava to lose both her parents? Horrible thoughts of a completely broken family slammed through my head.
Ava, still a sobbing mess, pulled her head back and looked at me. “It might have been the wife of Daddy’s friend. I can’t be sure, but I remember that lady had long, straight brown hair. That’s what I saw ... Daddy’s arm and that hair.”
My mind went immediately to Joyce, Neal’s wife. She had long brown hair, ultra-straight and very silky. Not only that, but she was also a curator at the Fort Worth Science Museum. Neal, as Greg’s racquetball ball partner and old buddy from high school and college spent more time together than the four us did. Neal often dropped by the house to chat with Greg, but rarely had Joyce been with him. And when we met up every two or three months for dinner out, I generally took Ava over to my mother’s. As a result, Ava had only met Joyce a limited number of times and probably didn’t know her name but would’ve remembered her hair.
“Joyce Clark,” I muttered under my breath. Going to the police was moved from active consideration to the backburner, being overpowered by a need to speak with Joyce. “Thank you, honey,” I told Ava. “You’ve been a big help.”
◆◆◆
Unable to resist checking out Ava’s lead, I pulled up in front of Neal and Joyce’s house. My emotions had twisted into nauseating knots. Joyce had always been my friend and for her to be having an affair with Greg was a hard pill to swallow. Betrayal, not only from Greg, but from her. But it must be her ... right? As I repeatedly banged on the door and rang the bell like a crazed lunatic, I certainly intended to find out.
Neal answered the door and I pushed him aside and barged in. “I need to talk to Joyce. I need to talk to her right now!”
Neal gasped and plastered himself against the wall. “Joyce,” he called out in a meek voice.
Joyce appeared from the kitchen, drying her hands on a cup towel. When she saw me, her face lit up in a bright smile, then turned to gray when she saw fire breathing from my mouth and lasers searing into her eyes. “Emily, what brings you around?”
The Hotel Page 18